Nothing is Certain

         I ran down the slippery road, rain slapping hard on my back in thick sheets. My bare feet pounded theough asphalt, tearing away skin from my soles. But I was too preoccupied to care.

          I could hear them behind me, racing through the streets. My heart was beating faster, and my side started to constrict. I turned off the road sharply, into a thin strip of wilderness. Mud splattered behind me, and I stumbled over brambles and twigs as I tried to outrun the ones behind me. My black hair provided cover in the night, a single advantage to this battle. I could almost feel my enemy’s breath on my neck. Not fast enough, I thought painfully, not fast enough.

          They were going to catch me, and I could tell. I dove into some bushes, the branches catching on my legs and arms, and sank into the dirt. Earth, dirt and leaves surrounded me, and memories rushed back at me.

          The first was of Ethan.

          It was autumn again, when branches released beautiful golden leaves and pine needles coated the grass in a lush carpet. The dawn sky was pink, the clouds orange and the fading moon blue. The colors were intoxicating, and everything was beautiful.

          I felt a pat on my head that nearly didn’t register, and my heart skipped a beat when I looked up. Ethan, with his blond hair and freckled skin, was staring back at me.

          “It’s great, isn’t it, Riley?” He whispered, almost as if the moment were too fragile to speak loudly about.

          It is, I thought. It really is.

          My thoughts were stopped short when a low, rasping cough came from Ethan. He coughed for a few minutes before coming back to breathe. My eyes watered—pain radiated from him in waves, and it hurt me to watch. He smiled like nothing was wrong, but something told me he was hurting inside.

          The moment faded, giving away to the next.

          It was winter now, but a year later. Snow had clearly previously packed the ground, but now it was melting, mixing with the dirt and making an ugly mess. The sky was gray, and the weather was a biting and harsh cold. I was at the feet of Dad, who was sitting across from Mom. The expressions on their faces were serious, and their tones were cold and hopeless.

          “They can’t fire you,” she said, staring at her feet. “You’ve worked there for twenty years. In this economy, you’re their best hope.” Her lip quivered, and she blinked rapidly to keep back tears.

          “I know, Eliza.” Dad said, his eyes bleak, “but we’re the smallest division in the state.”

          “I suppose you’re right. Nothing is certain but death and taxes, after all,” she replied bitterly.

          Nothing is certain but death and taxes. A morbid, cutting phrase, like a kick to the ribs, weighted from the true meaning behind it.

          Winter turned to spring, with dandelions and pansies poking through the grass and the sky shining a brilliant turquoise.

          But behind the front door, it wasn’t nearly as pleasant.

          Ethan was at home today, as he had been all month, connected to wires and cables. His hair was gone, and his arms were dotted with vaccines. Pill bottles flooded his bedside table. My heart ached to look into his room, but I knew he needed me.

          The house was empty, save for a nurse and I. The nurse had said a familiar environment might cure Ethan. Every day, when I woke up at his feet, was another painful day ahead of us. I could feel his resolve weaken, and each time my heart panged more and more.

          I was lounged at the foot of Ethan’s cot, listening to the beeping machines around me. What I wanted to do was lunge at them and tear out the wires with my teeth. With each beep, I was taunted by the fact that I may never get my best friend back.

          But the biggest shock of my life came next.

          Everything—

          And nothing.

          Nothing and everything all happened at once. Some machines whirred to life and others did nothing at all. I barked at a monitor connected to his chest, which was blank. The nurse flipped switches and pressed buttons frantically.

          I jumped onto the flimsy bed and barked more, at an empty face with half-closed eyes.

          But even I knew it was too late.

          I watched myself, from a different realm. What I did suddenly seemed beyond me. It felt agonizing, and it was worse than death. No matter how far I could run from it, it would never be far enough.

          I realized later that’s what happens when your best friend dies. I also realized it’s part of a bitter irony. Nothing is certain but death and taxes.

          They never explained who the death belonged to.

          My tail twitched and shook the bushes I was hidden inside, startling me from my reverie. My stomach growled; it was as empty as my heart. I heard the dogs baying in the distance. They still wanted revenge for the stolen scraps. They clearly aren’t even worth the fight, I thought resentfully, as my stomach growled yet again. I regretted running away from home. All I could think of were the big, juicy chicken legs Mom would sneak me while she was cooking.

          I shook my head, reminding me of the situation I was in. I ran out of the bushes, mud splattering behind me. The distant howls became closer and closer. Sprinting between trees and leaping over rocks, my hope soared. It could have been possible that I actually had the upper hand.

          But then I felt a rough, stony ground beneath me. I turned to see bright, white lights.

          The impact was huge. I heard a low crack as the car crashed into my ribs, and blood poured from my stomach as I lay, immobile, on the road. My ear was pressed to the pavement, and my heartbeat resonated in my ears.

          Until all I heard was silence.

          I woke up in a long, white tunnel. The floor was smooth and shiny, but walking on it, it was impossibly soft. A huge gateway stood close in front of me.

          On the other side was Ethan.

          The real Ethan, my best friend, who I never thought I’d see again.

          But then again, nothing in life is certain but death and taxes.